


so, i've heard

by goreallegore



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, idk what else to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goreallegore/pseuds/goreallegore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paige Reifler confirms meeting Harry Styles during boybanders break between the Asian and European leg of the tour, are they going to patch things up? If the pictures are anything to go by it might just be the hottest news of the summer. Sorry, Harry girls’ looks like Hazza might just be off the market. Ow!</p><p>Set during OTRA.</p><p>Or; Harry and Niall confess their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so, i've heard

**Author's Note:**

> so, i saw all this talk about paige on tumblr and basically wrote this. i wasn't going to post this on here but it's 2k so i feel like it's an adequate length. enjoy!
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr: niallohmighty.tumblr.com

_Paige Reifler confirms meeting Harry Styles during boybanders break between the Asian and European leg of the tour, are they going to patch things up? If the pictures are anything to go by it might just be the hottest news of the summer. Sorry, Harry girls’ looks like Hazza might just be off the market. Ow!_

- 

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, running his fingers through his curls, a nervous habit of his that he might – or might not – have picked up from a friend. He tugs at the ends, trying to loosen out the knots as he thinks over how to retract the news before it causes more damage; I mean, just recently he was able to quiet down his exaggeratedly scandalous image. He picks up his phone and calls the only person who might be able to calm him down.

“’Lo?” the boy on the other end answers, his voice slightly high-pitched making it evident of the alcohol he may have ingested. It’s Friday night, he can’t blame the guy.

“Damage control,” Harry says into the speaker, his cautious tone must alert Louis because the next thing he hears is a lot of rustling and _‘fuck where is my other shoe_ ’.

Once Louis is done with his search, Harry assumes, he speaks up again, “Alri’, you in London?”

“Actually...” Harry stutters because he probably should have mentioned that before Louis prowled through his room, “I’m in LA.”

“For fuck’s sake, Harry. You called me in the middle of the night to solve your problem while you’re _not_ even in the country?” If Harry and Louis hadn’t known each other for so many years, Harry would safely assume that Louis is pissed but since their situation is different it sort of works in his favor. Especially because he can hear the boy settling down again.

“Paige. Headlines. Dating. Trouble. Gossip,” he rambles, and then finally, “Niall.” The last one is hard to get out because he knows what’s coming next, he knows Louis’ stance on the entire situation and he knows about the damage he has done. But it’s only normal to find comfort in the voice of your best friend, right?

The older boy sighs on the other end, his disappointment apparent, “shouldn’t have started this mess to begin with. Haz, we already have too much shit on our plate with Zayn leaving and all. And then you lot couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

“Lou, you know it started last tour,” Harry defends himself, defends _him._ Sure, it started with gentle touches and hushed kisses but it only took a few months and the adrenaline of a world tour to elevate the entire situation into something _much_ bigger. With feelings. Something that Harry’s never really had a control over.

“Right, my bad. Wasn’t keeping track of your fucking,” Louis deadpans.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers.

“Not sure if I’m the person you should be saying that to, Haz,” and he’s right. His apology should be directed at the Irish lad who has him wrapped around his finger. The boy who has filled every corner of his mind, ridding him into a state of utter bliss and yet here he is being Harry. Harry who is known for _fucking_ things up. Especially relationships.

\--

Harry wouldn’t say that he has a flair for dramatics, but they most certainly do find a way to get to him. Opposites attract, the thing you run away from the most comes chasing after you, what you want you can’t have what can have you don’t want – just a few theories that are applicable to his life. He thought contacting management and a few other media outlets would help him settle the whole Paige issue, but, alas, he was wrong and the news spread around like wildfire. To his surprise though, Paige herself hasn’t received any negative feedback due to it, which is always a good sign – the unfortunate part is Harry severing his actual relationship. And that is why he is standing outside of Niall’s house, his fists clenched due to the nervous tick at the back of his head. He takes another deep breath before punching in the numbers that are like muscle memory to him now, frolicking among the London streets wasn’t quite an option during the early stages of their relationship so finding solace and privacy at Niall’s house was their only alternative – his house being comfier than Harry’s own mansion.

The front gates open with a buzz, lights turning on as he steps inside, he takes in the changes around the garage since the last time he was here. The cactus still uprooted in its small pot next to the door – he had bought it as a housewarming present for Niall, the blond had laughed and joked about throwing it away even after Harry had explained its significance – _resilient and brave –_ just like the other; it stayed. The plant, of course.

He crouches down, touching the prickly plant, the memory of the past leaving a ghost smile on his lips, simpler times when they didn’t have band meetings every day, when being around each other was by choice and not just _another_ job. The mammoth in the name of One Direction stripped them of what mattered the most; their innocence. Comical, it’s almost comical how the plant reflects their journey as individuals and as a group – people who persevered through a challenge after challenge, subjects to the eyes of the public and the scapegoat of media. Zayn quitting was just another sign of how corrosive the roots had become, biting at the empire they had created. He’s glad he got out when he could, but Zayn leaving just makes Harry just as much curious as to why he’s still _here_.

Thoughts of why’s and how’s are interrupted when the door to the house itself opens, a cackle filling the somber buzz of the crickets and fireflies, a familiar blonde coming into view, “and that’s my fault, how exactly?”

“It’s all those Insta posts, I reckon. Making my fans think I’m interested in an oldie like you,” Niall chortles, he is wearing a plain white shirt and skin-tight black jeans from what Harry can tell. Harry stands up letting the two know of his presence, it almost causes Laura to slip on the marbled step, “Sheesh, styles. Have opted for the stalker business?”

He doesn’t even realize how long he had been admiring the cacti, the comment adding to the pink of his cheeks, “something like that.”

She just giggles, shaking her head fondly and turning to her host, “alright, I’m gonna get going. Drink lots of water and don’t forget to text Eoghan about our plans.” She steps forward, standing on her tip-toes, and presses herself against Niall, kissing his cheek before turning back to Harry and offering a smile, “Night, babes!”

Once Laura sees herself out, heels in one hand and her car keys in another, it dawns on Harry that he has no idea what he is going to say to Niall. The fear freezes him in his spot, he can feel the intense gaze on his back, but he shows no sign of moving.

“If you wanna stand there all night be my guest.” Niall’s voice is cold and stern, unlike how it was with Laura where it was relaxed and bubbly, and it sends a tingle down Harry’s spine. He takes in a deep breath and faces him.

Now that he is directly facing him – his vision not blocked by pretty girls – he can properly admire his entire look; the scuffed up brown boots that have sort of become a statement for both of them; a proper fitted white t-shirt complimenting his taut muscles; skinny jeans that make his legs more ravishing than they should; and a silver chain settling right below his pecks – never in Harry’s 21 years of living he would have thought that he’d be turned on by a string of metal. And yet, here he is.

“Have some decency, Styles, eye-fucking in broad daylight is considered a crime in some countries,” Niall jolts him out of his trance, a smirk plastered to his face as he glows with unprecedented confidence – Harry won’t admit, but his cockiness makes him ten times more attractive.

“Sorry, jus’ haven’t seen you in a while,” and that does it. The smirk falls off of his face as he moves back into the house, the atmosphere tensing up again, “and who’s fault that might be?”

“Mine,” Harry hurriedly admits because he wants to fix this. He wants to let Niall know that the whole Paige thing is a set-up and he only met up with her once; the other time they happen to be at the same event, and Harry slightly tipsy and not so much in control.

“Amazing, anything else?” Niall arches an eyebrow, sitting down on the couch. Harry stands.

“Right. I am so so sorry. I am sure you must’ve read the newspapers or heard it on TV or maybe some website, but I assure you there is nothing going on between Paige and me.”

“For some reason I thought you’d have a better spiel prepared. You know, all rehearsed and proper, can’t imagine how many times you’ve had to do it,” he laughs. Not his throaty, blissful chortle, but a laugh that is meant to be as a taunt, mocking Harry for his reputation.

“Niall, I would never…” he can barely finish, his words coming out too slow and his voice thick with guilt.

“Never what? Cheat? Or should I be concerned over something more tragic?” Niall jeers, his patience wearing thin. Though Harry only catches the ‘ _concerned_ ’ bit, igniting hope for him.

He gets on his knees – might as well go all out – and clasps his hands together, he is quite literally begging because he has no idea what else to do. The act catches Niall off guard as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “Harold, get up. I don’t want you doing that shit.”

 _Harold_ , Harry thinks. His own name twisted into a term of affection, something he has gotten use to over the past few months, just hearing it in-between their squabble makes his heart flutter.

“Then hear me out,” standin- kneeling his ground.

Niall sighs, visibly tired by the entire debacle, rubbing a hand over his face, “alright.”

Harry launches into a speech about how and why the Paige rumor started in the first place, and how he himself feels uncomfortable having his name linked to someone who exploited him in the past – but obviously his good manners and politeness works against him and he has to bear with it. The words tumble out haphazardly, unlike in the languid manner he is accustomed to, “didn’t cheat, promise. Wouldn’t even dare.”

“Why so? What makes this time different than all others?” Niall pipes, thoroughly enjoying Harry’s misery.  

Flustered, and completely desperate, Harry fumbles with his next words, “Because...because it’s _you_.”

Niall is about to talk when Harry interrupts him again, “You as in Niall. You as in Niall who is the embodiment of joy. You as in the only person – boy or girl – who has made me completely and utterly helpless, it’s like I don’t care what happens next as long as you’re here I will be fine. You who makes my heart race without even trying, my chest tight without even batting an eyelash, and sometimes I think how lucky I am to have you. To love you. To be _in_ love with you,” and then Harry’s question from before is answered, why is he still doing this? “You the reason why I believe we won’t fail. We’ll live our dreams no matter what anyone says. You Niall. You. I love you, Niall Horan.”

Harry breaths, his words a clusterfuck of his thoughts out on the table, the three words that they hadn’t exchanged bellowed out in an attempt to salvage what’s left of their arrangement – relationship he wants to call it.

Niall doesn’t say anything, but instead slips off the couch and stands on his knees, imitating the boy before him, he presses a hand to the curly-haired boy’s cheek and another at the back of his neck, “you didn’t sleep with her.”

Harry would reply but the tears threatening to spill and lump in his throat stops him, only letting him choke out an ugly sob. Niall must get it as he slots their lips together, numbly pressing against Harry’s whimpering self. The room is deadly silent, the only sound invading their moment is of the beating hearts, hammering to be heard. Harry opens his mouth, letting Niall lick into it as he moves his hand along his jaw, feeling the stubble against his palm. They pull apart, breathless, but still dearly close.

Niall smiles, “I love you too, Harry Styles.

Relationship is what they call it. Boyfriends is what they are.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudos and all that jazz!


End file.
